


Strangers

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Elementary (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossover Pairings, Gay Bar, M/M, One Night Stands, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strippers & Strip Clubs, it is apparently my mission in life to write as many marcus bell sex scenes as possible, some angst but mostly sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 14:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6808327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was going through my old fics, and found this.... I have neither an excuse nor a reason. It's basically just smut.<br/>Enjoy!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers

Marcus Bell did not have a type.

He was leaning against the bar, a drink in his hand; the buzz of alcohol was low and warm in his belly, and he was leaning on his left fist. His skin was dark and smooth, thick lips quirked into an amused smirk at some private joke, black stubble giving his face a dangerous handsome look. Every man that walked past looked him over twice; he was small, but his body was perfectly muscular, and his waist was slim. They imagined him under them, on top of them, between two of them. But he ignored them all.

He didn’t have a type, but he wanted something particular tonight.

As a rule, in his experience, cops didn’t have much of a social life, or a stable romantic life.  He knew that almost every guy in this place would run for the hills if they knew he was a detective- especially given the white powder and rolled up cigarettes that were stashed in the pockets of most of them, traded between clever fingers, money exchanged in the darker corners of the club. He’d come to the wrong place, he knew that now; he wanted someone pure. Someone gorgeous, someone innocent, who was untouched by the violence and death and pain and _shit_ of his everyday job. He didn’t want an addict, or a dealer, or a prostitute, or anyone who he might see sitting on the opposite side of the interrogation table.

He sighed, and spun his drink slowly on its rim.  He stared morosely at the stripper a few metres from him, whose hips swivelled and pressed, a glitter-splattered body writhing to the music. He knew that kid. He’d just got out of prison. Put in for dealing and distribution.

Sometimes he hated being a cop.

Just as he he’d made up his mind to leave, maybe to go an actual bar and content himself with meeting a woman instead, he noticed a guy watching him from up the bar.

He had white, _white_ skin- the kind of white skin that would look good under Marcus’ dark hands- skin which changed colour with the flashing lights, strange hues and colours painting his cherub-like face. His cheeks were round and childish, but his jaw was sharp. He had blonde-brown curls, unruly and endearingly appealing, and Marcus thought about pulling his hair, grasping it as he fucked him from behind.

The guy smiled again, shyly, and Marcus stood with a grin of his own. As he approached him, the man turned on the barstool, an elbow leaned on the bar, fingers comfortably snug around his drink as he held it, his steady movements suggesting he was relatively sober- which was reassuring in Marcus’ mind. One night stands were okay, but he wasn't here to take advantage.

“Hey.” Marcus said, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Hi.” The guy replied. He bit his lip, tilting his head thoughtfully. His blue eyes went up and down Marcus’ body, and Marcus’ smile grew; he worked hard to look as good as he did. “So, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing quietly, looking up coyly at Marcus. “…you’re pretty hot.”

“You stole my line.”

He laughed again; it was a giggle, light and mischievous. He was playing up his youth. Definitely a bottom.

“I’m Marcus.”

“Isaac.” He smiled sheepishly. “You… You wanna go somewhere?”

Marcus grinned. “Hell yeah.”

 

***

 

 “Oh god- fuck, fuck, harder-” Isaac’s mouth was open, gasping, lips wet, staring up at Marcus with big blue eyes. His arms were thrown above his head, hands clenching and unclenching.

Marcus gripped his hips harder, yanked him higher, and changed the angle; Isaac cried out, pressing his face into his bicep, eyes squeezed shut.

“Please- Please, _harder_ -”

Marcus pulled out, turned Isaac over, and slammed into him, relished the muffled gasp that turned into a high-pitched moan. He pressed his face into Isaac’s shoulder, biting down.

He’d never fucked anyone like Isaac. He’d wanted someone innocent, but Isaac seemed too perfect to be true; his body was clean and perfect, not one scar on him. He was all smooth curves and young muscle, his abdomen clenching every time Marcus thrusted into him. And the noises he made. He sounded like he’d never been fucked so good in his life. It really did wonders for a man’s ego.

“Marcus-” His voice was shaky, unsteady. “I’m-”

“I got you.” He whispered against Isaac’s neck. “I got you.” He reached under, touched him.

“Fuck!” Isaac cried out breathlessly, gripping a pillow. “Come- Come inside me-”

Well. If that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever heard before. Marcus’ orgasm took him by surprise, a sudden build of heat in his lower abdomen, and then it was over. He panted against a white, barely-freckled shoulder, forgetting everything for a few blissful moments, before there was a desperate sob from underneath him.

“Please. Please.” Isaac was trembling. “ _Please_.”

Marcus jerked him off, fast and hard, still buried inside him. Isaac rocked into his hand, shaking more and more as he got closer to orgasm. The closer he got, the quieter he was; when he came, he was silent, eyes pressed closed, propped up on his elbows.

He fell forward, arms collapsing under him. He gave a quiet whimper when Marcus pulled out of him.

“You okay?”

Isaac rolled onto his back and stared up at him with dazed eyes, grinning dully. “Yeah. Really okay.” His words were breathy, slow. His stomach rose and fell. “You?”

“Great.” Marcus lay down beside him, letting out a loud huff. He was already regretting not having used a condom, but that was the best sex he’d had in a long time.

The room fell into silence.

This was the part Marcus hated most about one-night stands. Their breaths slowed, grew quieter, and he rubbed his face. He gave it five minutes before it got unbearably awkward.

“Marcus?” Isaac turned on his side, looking at him imploringly. He seemed almost pleading.

Marcus frowned. “What?”

The young man paused, like he wanted to say something. Then, he leaned forward and kissed him. It was soft, gentle, and Marcus reached up to grip gently at blonde curls as Isaac shifted closer, pressed against his side.

“You sure you’re okay?” Marcus asked quietly.

Isaac lay against him, head on his chest. “Yeah.”

It was obvious he was lying, but Marcus wasn’t going to ask. He didn’t know this guy. He didn’t know why he had been in that bar, looking for someone to fuck him senseless. Marcus sighed and stroked his fingers absently over this beautiful stranger’s shoulder. He didn’t want to know.

Yet…

He wished this wouldn’t happen. He wished he could just go out and sleep with someone, and not feel like this. He wanted to ask. He wanted to know what was wrong.

Damnit.

“Listen, kid,” Marcus began, but Isaac shook his head minutely, humming quietly.

“Don’t worry about it, dude, I don’t even know you.” Isaac shifted, one slender white hand reaching up to flick hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah, but… I can’t just…”

“Let it go.” Isaac’s voice grew soft. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

Marcus sighed. “Fine.”

 

***

 

Isaac closed his eyes and leaned into the warm body next to him.

It was so easy to pretend, like this. That there weren’t fangs hidden in his mouth. That his eyes wouldn’t glow yellow. That he was just a normal human, and this was just a normal night.

But it wasn’t.

He thought about Chris, wondered where he was. Whether he was still in France, in that tiny apartment, smoking cheap cigarettes on the balcony, thinking of his daughter. Isaac almost wished he was there, with him, but instead he was here. In bed with a stranger.

“Are you crying?” Marcus asked quietly, lifting his head.

Isaac moved closer to him, sniffing, rubbing at his cheek. “No.”

“…Kid, if you’re upset-”

“This is all I need tonight.” Isaac curled into his side, closed his eyes, and breathed deep. “I just need to pretend.”

Marcus didn’t reply.

Isaac didn’t want him to.


End file.
